


Quidditch and Christmas

by LittleRose13



Series: Shipmas 2018 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Eve, Flashback, Fluff, M/M, Quidditch, Shipmas 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRose13/pseuds/LittleRose13
Summary: “I only stayed at Hogwarts one Christmas,” Oliver said quietly.“Seventh year,” Marcus echoed, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’d never stayed before either.”Oliver and Marcus look back on a very different Christmas Eve.





	Quidditch and Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I know you didn’t stay at Hogwarts just for the Cribbage’s Wizarding Crackers

There was a soft padding of footsteps coming down the stairs. Marcus sighed and exchanged a look with Oliver, who glanced at the clock and shrugged, waiting for the living room door to open. It opened just a small crack and the nose of a toy crup appeared, peering around the door.

“I can’t sleep,” said the crup in a squeaky voice, dancing around.

Oliver bit back a smirk. “Oh no, Woof, that’s a bit of a problem. Did you ask Cole for help?”

“Yes,” the crup continued. “Cole is so asleep but I need three hugs.”

“I suppose Cole can’t give you any hugs if he’s _so asleep_ ,” Marcus reasoned. “What a pickle.”

“It is a Christmas pickle,” the crup sighed dramatically. “Maybe I could have a hug instead.”

“Maybe you could.” Oliver stood up and approached the door, kneeling down so his face was in front of the toy. He wrapped his arms around the small stuffed animal then pretended to recoil. “Woof, you’re feeling a little stiff today, and what’s this on your back?”

Cole giggled as Oliver inspected his small hand holding the crup in place. He dropped the crup and pushed the door open further, grinning widely.

“I heard Woof so I had to come and check it all out,” Cole said sincerely, crossing his bare feet over one another. He performed a theatrical yawn. “I was so asleep.”

“Of course you were.” Oliver picked Cole up and walked him across the room to the big armchair beside the Christmas tree.

“You would never dream of staying awake the night before Christmas.” Marcus perched on the arm of the chair. “You know how important it is to be asleep so Father Christmas can fill your stocking.”

“Yes,” Cole nodded sincerely then he blushed. “But what if it is too hard to go to sleep when I’m so excited?!”

With this, he took off from the armchair and started spinning around as fast as his four-year-old legs would carry him, his crup tucked firmly under his arm. He swayed dizzily on the spot and fell to the floor in a giggling heap.

“Woof needs one more story,” Cole insisted, staring up at the ceiling. “And another hug.” He stretched his arms out towards Oliver. “You can just hug me too.”

Oliver bit back a laugh, something he often had to do around Cole, who was unintentionally hilarious a lot of the time. He picked Cole up and smiled as he rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder. Marcus picked up the fallen crup toy and led the way upstairs.

After the promised story and hug, Cole and Woof were tucked into bed and Cole’s eyes were determinedly closed, despite the fact that he was wriggling around in the bed, nowhere near sleep.

“I’m just so excited for Christmas!” Cole squeaked, snapping his eyes open and pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Shh.” Marcus pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t wake up Nana Dolly.”

Cole looked apologetic. “Sorry, Daddy. I can be excited and quiet too.” He squeezed Woof close to his chest and let out a big sigh. “How do I sleep when my whole body is saying _time to be excited, Coley?”_

They’d predicted this was coming. It was the first Christmas Cole was old enough to truly understand days and when things were happening and he’d easily identified that tomorrow was Christmas Day itself. Considering Cole was a child who became over-excited at the prospect of standing on a chair and jumping off, Christmas Day was almost too much to handle. He’d spent most of December drawing pictures with Marcus’ mother - Cole’s beloved Nana Dolly - of what Christmas would be like.

“Lie down, close your eyes,” Marcus instructed in what Oliver thought was probably supposed to be a calm and relaxing tone but his husband’s voice was a bit too gruff for it to really work.

Oliver used his wand to flick the lights off so the room was lit only by a jar full of glowing fireflies on Cole’s bedside table. Cole had collected them with Nana Dolly and their soft glow scattered across the ceiling like constellations.

“Think about snowflakes softly floating through the air,” Marcus said, still trying to sound relaxing.

Cole had obediently lay atop his pillow and screwed his eyes shut, but at these words they opened wide and he stared at Marcus in astonishment. “There are going to be _snowflakes?!”_

Marcus pressed his lips together in regretful defeat. “Worth a try.”

Oliver took over, gently stroking Cole’s fluffy hair in a soothing pattern. “Sorry, Cole. There probably won’t be any snowflakes this year, we’re not far enough North.”

“What is _north?”_

Marcus pointed upwards. “North, up there. A long way away, where Hogwarts is.”

“Will there be snowflakes at Hogwarts?”

“I should think so,” Marcus told him.

Cole smiled to himself. “I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts and have snowflakes on Christmas.”

“You won’t want to come back home for Christmas?” Marcus asked in mock offence.

Cole looked stricken. “What if _you_ come to Hogwarts and have snowflakes with me when I’m all big and eleven?”

It was hard to imagine little Cole old enough to be packed off on the Hogwarts Express by himself, but Oliver knew it would come around faster than they thought. He was almost five, yet the early days when he’d been only a few months old and Oliver had first met him seemed like last week.

“What’s Christmas like at Hogwarts?” Cole settled back against his pillows, Woof the crup squeezed to his side.

Oliver and Marcus exchanged glances.

“I only stayed at Hogwarts one Christmas,” Oliver said quietly.

“Seventh year,” Marcus echoed, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’d never stayed before either.”

“Were there snowflakes?” Cole said through a small yawn.

“Oh yes, your Oliver was most upset his precious Quidditch pitch was covered in a foot of snow.” Marcus gave him a fond smile.

“I stayed specifically to practise!” Oliver protested. “It was the year I tried out for Puddlemere, I needed the pitch.”

Marcus scoffed. “Oh right, you stayed at Hogwarts that year _to practise,_ that was why.”

“Better than your excuse. _I’m staying at Hogwarts for the Cribbage’s Wizarding Crackers._ Like you couldn’t get them anywhere else. Did _anyone_ buy that?”

“My mum saw straight through me,” Marcus chuckled.

“Nana Dolly knows everything,” Cole said reverently.

“She does,” Marcus agreed with a nod, sharing a smile with Oliver. “That was a good Christmas,” he said in a quieter voice, a reminiscent look in his eye.

“Time to go to sleep, Cole,” Oliver said quietly, his thoughts wandering to that Christmas too.

“Will you stay with me?” Cole asked in such a small, innocent voice that it was impossible to say no. “You both, my Daddy and my Oliver.”

“Of course,” Marcus told him.

They got comfy on the big armchair by the window, where Cole could still see them. Chances were they would be there for a while as he fell asleep, Oliver thought. Marcus’ hand was still in his and he laced their fingers together, thinking back to that Christmas in their seventh year when, really, everything had changed.

Oliver is seventeen again, the most important thing in the world is securing the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor. He’s had his fair share of bad luck, but the team is flying better than ever. He wants the cup almost as much as he wants to make Puddlemere, he wants it more than he wants to pass all of his NEWTs. It’s his last chance, his final opportunity, and nothing can stop him this year.

The other captains aren’t on his level. Davies plays it too safe, Ravenclaw are easy to predict and easy to outsmart. Diggory has his shit together, his team are tight, that was sure, but Diggory is a prefect and spends just as much time studying as he does planning for his team. Not like Oliver, who dedicates more time to Quidditch than his school work. He doesn’t need five Outstanding NEWTs to play professional Quidditch.

Then there’s Flint.

Marcus Flint had become captain the same year Oliver had, they’d butted heads more than once, and Oliver was still smarting from the last time Slytherin had beaten his team. Flint never lets him forget it. He’s smart when it came to his decisions as captain, even if he does turn a blind eye to some of his team’s underhanded tactics.

The Christmas holidays arrive and Oliver is the only seventh year Gryffindor boy staying at Hogwarts. His friends had been quite surprised, he’d gone home every other year, but as soon as he explained why he was staying, they understood.

Tryout season is only months away, the moment he’s been preparing for and anticipating since he was eight years old and had first flown solo on a real broomstick. He wants more than anything to make it onto a professional Quidditch team as a Keeper. There’s nothing else he could even see himself doing, let alone trying to do; everything came back to Quidditch. So for that reason, he elected to stay at Hogwarts where the vast Quidditch pitch and grounds mean he can keep up his daily training schedule. Living in a terraced house in muggle London doesn’t allow for much out of school practice time.

His plan works flawlessly, because nobody else will be using the Quidditch pitch over the holidays. He’ll have it all to himself so he can charm a Quaffle to fly at him with increasing speed and precision.

For this reason, it comes as a bit of an unpleasant shock to find the Quidditch pitch _occupied_ on the first crisp morning of the holidays. It isn’t the empty expanse of potential he’s been picturing and instead is home to one player, swooping about and chasing a Quaffle around. The player tucks the Quaffle under one arm and hurtles almost at the ground, pulling up and out of the dive at the last second then doubling back to hover.

“Late start, Wood?” Marcus Flint makes a big show of checking his watch and tutting. “Not like you to slack off.”

Oliver narrows his eyes at the Slytherin Quidditch captain. “What are you doing here, Flint?”

“Same as you,” Flint says airily, landing and shouldering his broom. “Building a gingerbread house.”

“I’m here to train,” Oliver says in the most offhand voice he can, trying not to let any amusement show; he doesn’t find Flint _funny._

“Nice of you to stay at Hogwarts to keep me company,” Flint winks and mounts his broom again.

Before Oliver can do much more than splutter awkwardly, Flint has flown away and is circling the hoops. He grumbles to himself and mounts his own broom, flying after Flint and trying to look like he isn’t.

“I stayed at Hogwarts to train,” he says in what he hopes is a bored, casual sort of voice.

“Sure,” Flint replies with an arrogant flip of his hair as he throws the Quaffle away and tears after it.

Oliver stares after him in utter annoyance. Who does he think he is? He sets his face in determined concentration, waiting for Flint to return with the Quaffle. Flint loops around the pitch, adept and precise despite the considerable speed he’s flying at. It’s easy to tell he’s well-practised and has been playing for years. He fires the Quaffle at the hoop furthest from Oliver, but he’s quick, and swerves his broom at the last second, diverting the Quaffle away from the goal.

Flint swears and flies down to retrieve the Quaffle. Oliver smirks to himself.

“Can you show off somewhere else?” Flint approaches him. He hovers near the hoop, pulls his wand out and waves it over the Quaffle in his arms. “ _Geminio.”_ A second, identical Quaffle appears and he throws it to Oliver, who catches it with ease.

“What’s this?”

“You train at that end of the pitch, I’ll stay here. Deal?” Flint raises one eyebrow.

“Deal.” Oliver nods, flying away to the other set of hoops.

He tries to ignore Flint, charming the Quaffle to fly at him and focusing on his technique. It almost works, there’s nothing like Quidditch to take Oliver’s mind of something.

Flint is there again the next day, and the next. They barely acknowledge each other, instead remaining completely focused on their own training. Oliver isn’t watching Flint, Flint isn’t watching him. At least, that’s what Oliver thought was happening. The day before Christmas Eve tells him differently.

“Oi, Wood!”

Oliver grabs the enchanted Quaffle and looks over at Flint, who is floating nearby. “What?”

“Nice save,” Flint grins and continues to chase his own Quaffle about.

“Yeah, nice catch,” Oliver yells after him, wrongfooted.

It’s Christmas Eve but of course that’s no reason to miss training. Oliver wonders if Flint will skip it today, then he wonders why he’s wondering about that.

“Happy Christmas Eve,” Flint growls when Oliver bumps into him at the broom shed.

“Yeah, you too,” Oliver replies, passing Flint in the doorway; their torsos brush past one another.

He’s at the hoops, catching his enchanted Quaffle repeatedly, when Flint emerges with his broom. Instead of the usual pattern of flying to the other end of the pitch, he comes straight towards Oliver.

“I lost my Quaffle,” he says with a shrug. “Want to play together today?”

Oliver is about to suggest he uses accio to find his Quaffle, or that he’s sure there are spare Quaffles in the shed. But he doesn’t.

He nods. “I could do with more of a challenge.”

“I’m a challenge, am I?” Flint winks again.

Oliver doesn’t have a chance to answer, because Flint has grabbed the enchanted Quaffle from the air and is looping the pitch with it. He stares after him. Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever been on a Quidditch pitch and not been focused on anything but Quidditch. This is new.

It’s Christmas Day and he‘s back again. Oliver had been planning to take the day off, write to his family, let himself rest. But somehow, here he is, and here _he_ is.

“Still haven’t found it,” Flint says with a grin, his empty hands showing he means his Quaffle.

They play together again, until it’s starting to get dark. Christmas Dinner will be happening soon, but Flint doesn’t look like he’s in any kind of rush to go inside.

“Nice work. You’re so… committed,” Flint says in a low voice, shouldering his broom.

“Thanks, same to you,” Oliver replies, mirroring him.

“It’s been fun.” Flint is still.

“It has.” Oliver realises he really means it. The deserted pitch he’d imagined just for himself now feels, well, lonely.

“Oliver,” Flint says, laying his broom on the grass of the pitch. “I didn’t just stay at Hogwarts for the Cribbage’s Wizarding Crackers. Or the pitch.”

Oliver is frozen to the spot. By all of Flint’s words, the tone in which he’s speaking, the use of his first name, the way the dusk light is shining in his light eyes, making them sparkle.

“I stayed for you,” he whispers.

And somehow, there’s no space between them anymore, they’re nose to nose and Oliver can count every one of Flint’s eyelashes. He leans forward.

“Me too.”

They’re kissing, and it’s new and different and confirms every suspicion Oliver has ever had about himself. Marcus Flint’s lips are pressed up against his, Marcus Flint’s hands are wandering up into his hair, Marcus Flint is making him feel better than he can ever remember.

A squeeze of his hand brought Oliver back to the present. He blinked, coming back into his son’s bedroom, the chair where he was pressed against his partner.

“He’s asleep,” Marcus whispered. “What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, you know,” Oliver whispered back, smiling at the dear face so close to his, “Quidditch and Christmas.”   


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! First time writing these two and I really enjoyed it! Thank you to Beks for reassuring me and making this make sense❤️  
> Tumblr: littlerose13writes  
> Cole is a character who appears in my Scorbus fic Sweeter Than Fiction if you want to see more of him :)


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